Stiffly, I return to the room and settle into my own chair. Carl’s shoulders drop an inch even though tension still radiates through his body. I don’t think the guy will fully relax until the hunters are permanently dealt with.
“Thank you.” Then he’s gone, and I’m left babysitting.
I pull out my phone for something to do, only to find I have no reception here. That happens a lot around Lake Galen, internet and GPS flaking out. With a sigh, I pocket my phone and lean back in my seat. The cat, Lucky, jumps into my lap, curls up, and appears to fall asleep. Shrimp sprawls on the floor beside Clementine’s chair.
With nothing else to do, I watch the woman sleep and try not to think about how much I always want her to feel safe enough to doze off.
11
CLEMENTINE
There’s no cure.
At least not one that the witches know of.
When I woke up from my impromptu nap to find myself alone with Griffith, he was quick to get up and call the others in. A woman with warm brown skin and a gentle smile introduced herself as Zara a moment before I remembered her from a few grades ahead of me back in school. She sat beside me with a sketch pad as I detailed the appearances of the two hunters—particularly Luke. Apparently, Zara is now the town’s veterinarian, but she’s an artist in her free time. Her renderings were accurate; plus, she managed to draw a likeness of the weapon that had cut me based off the few glimpses I got while my attacker sliced it through the air.
After we were done, she even gave Shrimp a quick checkup, deeming him healthy and a very good boy.
Next came Ame’s sister, Mor. The witch who runs the lakeside library shares the same red hair as her sister, but their personalities are vastly different. Mor seemed less … odd. Aftertaking a long moment to study Zara’s drawing of the blade, she spoke to me in a no-nonsense manner, asking how the wound looked and felt—even how it smelled.
Weirdly enough, Griffith helped with that, claiming he detected a hint of sulfur.
I try not to think about how weird it is, knowing the wolf can smell every detail about me.
But even after all Mor’s clarifying questions, the encounter ended with a promise from the witch that she’d scour her texts for an answer.
No immediate ideas for treatment. No promises that an answer exists.
The car ride back to Griffith’s house is quiet and not because I fall asleep again.
“Can you turn on some music?” I ask, feeling like I’m going to crawl out of my skin, knowing that Carl is sitting in the backseat, spiraling.
My brother hates being helpless, and now I’ve brought a potentially unsolvable problem to him.
One that might end my life.
When I was a teenager, I rejected his attempts to love and protect me. All the pain I had about my parents walking out on us needed to go somewhere, and I aimed it in the absolutely wrong direction. I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
Maybe I was scared Carl would leave me too. And if I was a terror, at least it would make sense why I was abandoned.
Now though, I’d like to think I have healthier coping mechanisms. I might not have collected friends on my travels, but I did see a therapist or two. They didn’t fix me, but they helped me understand the sources of my hurt and gave me directions on how to go about growing.
So, as I sit here, scared and in pain, I’m not going to search for a method of causing chaos to distract from my negative emotions.
Instead, I just want some music and a moment to figure out the best way forward.
Griffith fiddles with the radio until a local country station comes on. Lainey Wilson belts about “Wildflowers and Wild Horses,” and I let her rich voice wash over me. By the time we reach Griffith’s house, I don’t have any answers to my problems, but I also don’t feel quite so much like an exposed nerve.
“We need to figure this out,” Carl says the moment we’re through the front door.
When I face him, I take in the dark circles under his eyes, the bloodshot redness around his irises, and the tinge of gray to his skin.
He’s exhausted.
And in need of a swim.
“You need sleep,” I tell him, focusing on the more immediate problem.
